


Book 1: When the Sky Fell...

by Cypher_nicus



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Aliens If You Squint, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Demon Blood, Demon Kings, Demon culture, Future Fic If You Squint, Hate Sex, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I Wrote This To Self-Flagellate, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Tags May Change, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, demon biology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27160415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cypher_nicus/pseuds/Cypher_nicus
Summary: Suriel remembered his end. He remembered the world plunging into carniverous darkness..So why did he wake up with clear air filling his lungs, and his mind burning with unanswered questions?In other words.. A fallen star happens upon Star Cross Academy. What lay in store for the finders of a paradox from a time that could-never-be?
Relationships: Fujimoto Shirou/Original Character, Fujimoto Shirou/Original Male Character, Mephisto Pheles/Original Character(s), Mephisto Pheles/Original Male Character(s), Okumera Rin & Original Character, Yuri Egin/Fujimoto Shirou
Comments: 22
Kudos: 14





	1. Harsh Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I hate myself and I've made a pledge to write so I can procrastinate studying. 
> 
> Anyways, going to write until I don't hate it so much anymore!

He remembered it. It had become etched in his bones, the telling of the end of the only world he had ever known. The way the wind had moaned through the deserted smog-ridden alleyways, and the rotting remains of what had once been towering buildings had buckled and heaved as if lamenting that they too, were coming to an end. The taste of ash and burnt bodies singed his nose and lingered in the back of his throat. 

He would never forget that taste. The bitter metallic tang of too much blood touched by fire. His scales stung from the blisters of the forever-night’s ionic storms. There was no sun to light his way. There had not been in centuries. Hunger gnawed so long in his empty core for a scrap of heat, that he hardly felt much other than hollow.

The ineffectual remains of the sun sat low and dark in the eternally black and starless sky. Sometimes he dreamed about the stars his grandfather had told his father, who had told him. Would they be faces in the sky? Would they dance, and move? Perhaps they were small people swirling in the darkness to light the way for others. 

He dreamed, sometimes. When there was a lull enough in the scorching radiation to sleep. The ache in his bones was only distant then. It ate at him now like a living thing, demanding the sustenance of his death. 

He’d tried so hard- oh god he tried, but this world would consume him just as it had swallowed the dry screams of the populace. He tried not to think about _them_. It ached in a way too much to be called grief. 

Tried not to think of the tiny clawed feet and hands grabbing at sunken in cheeks, and the piteous wail of a starving newborn. It had been decades since he had come across one of those. 

This world deserved to end, and the fabric of this reality would breathe a sigh of relief when the suffering finally ceased.

He tossed his gaze skywards, knowing what was up only from a lifetime of living beneath a blanket of pollution and ash. Dismay thundered through him, quenched only by stark relief. It was finally, _finally_ time. Sliding to his knees with a rough sound- how long had it been since he spoke?

The skin of his knees split on the rough glass and bone fragments that littered the ground of ancient and recent massacres, but he paid them little mind. His gaze- all four eyes opened wide, sclera reduces entirely to pupil to see in the haze, was focused on something much more important. Something unseen.

Something ancient approached- and though he could not see it, he felt the threads of his mind unravel at the proximity. It was oppressive, the hunger of this.. This _thing._ It clutched with claws and tore, digesting you before you even knew you had been consumed into it’s ravenous gullet. 

He was stifled, and pulled apart. Compressed and unmade. He was too much, and every single cell. The feeling bubbled in his gut, building until there was naught to do but let it out in a primal, visceral scream. He felt the answering call of what remained of the earth. What remained of the universe. This was the end. 

There was no more light to see by, and nothing to be seen. This creature was beyond comprehension. It would take- and so it did. He watched helpless, as a beast beyond reckoning.. _Ate the sun._

And with it, he welcomed the embrace of the endless gullet.

He was him. He was it. He knew nothing more.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


He awoke. 

From nothing, he had become _him_ again. A bright, searing pain erupted in his eyes. Through closed lids he fought to get away from the tearing, nauseating ache. But his body had turned against him.

Lead filled his limbs and another pain made itself known. Both pairs of his damaged lungs were too empty, He was suffocating. He heaved against the invisible bonds that held him to unconsciousness with little effect, panic surging through him like a drug. He felt keenly the moment the hooks in his skin pulled free as if they had never existed, and he dropped.

He was falling.

The stillness within him shattered as air surged into his lungs- cold and clean in a way it had never been, and he choked on an agonized scream. The sound rattling the ashes in his starved, strangled organs. 

Cold Cold _Cold.._ He was so cold! It was suffocating his core!

The chill of the air sunk teeth into his bones and gnawed. Was this his fate, to suffer? He writhed with nothing to hold him, slamming hands over his eyes with another pained shriek, digging claws into the delicate skin.

He wanted them out! He’d tear them out himself if it meant a reprieve from the awful burning, so at odds with the hollow cold that threatened to pull him back under into that dreaded nothingness. 

The wind howled like a living thing past his ears, louder than anything he could ever remember. It deafened him, pulling new lines of agony across his consciousness. It was too much!

Aksah above, he'd give anything to make it _stop. MAKE IT STOP._ His mind shrieked, but the wind was louder. He was buffeted by great gusts. His skin tore, and soon the chill shifted to a burning, all-encompassing _heat._ The constant change gave him no time to adjust, and drove him to insanity.

His agonized shrieks gave way to aborted chirps- childish, anguished sounds as his scales pulled free of him and regrew in quick succession. He ached for the nothingness that came before, the peace. This time, he hoped it would last.

As if answering his unspoken thoughts, his core sputtered under the abuse and he plunged once more into thankful darkness.

* * *


	2. Genesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suriel collects himself in the aftermath of his rather poetic fall.  
> What becomes of him? Who has seen his descent? Will they be a friend or a foe?  
> Meanwhile, his thoughts turn inward for some long-awaited self maintenance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Meant to post this DAYS ago but have been working 3 days straight through a fucked up midterm.
> 
> Please give constructive critisizm if you have time! Also PM me with any questions about the story so far!

His second awakening was less unpleasant than his first. Dust had coated the back of his throat, and he sputtered. Choking on air that caught in his maladapted lungs, he fought to eject centuries of grit. 

His clothing had burned or blistered in the heat of entry into the planet’s atmosphere which left no obstruction for the chilled whisper of wind on his scales to rouse him from slumber.

Thoughts dripped through his sluggish mind, foggy and undefined.

Who.. was he? Where- no,  _ why  _ was he?

Suriel’s thoughts skidded to a grinding halt. Yes, that was it. He was  **Suriel** . He had been eaten by the destroyer of all things. So why in the name of all things was he splayed on the cold ground, contemplating his existence? 

He was _him_ and he was.. Surprisingly alive. Fuck. _What exactly was he going to do,_ _now?_ Live? _What a horrible idea._ He thought absently to himself, senses pinging slowly and disjointed through his neural net after his rough landing. This was a predicament. 

His eyes ached. Frankly, everything did. He reached a hand towards his face to rub at the sharp throb only to feel a tremor shake through his wrist. His neural net needed recalibration, and his joints were out of place. 

He hazarded opening his eyes a slit, instincts screaming to look around and see where he had fallen. No sooner had they cracked open a sliver, he slammed them back shut with a disgruntled snarl of pain. Everything was so  _ bright. _ Like a flash bomb had been detonated directly behind his eyelids, it was unavoidable. 

Sounds reached him first, finely tuned reverberative tech applifying every minute whisper. His brain struggled to process the sound so soon after such a harsh reboot. The sounds were disjointed, flashing in and out of his grasp. He wanted to  _ know! _ What was he hearing? 

_ Where was he? _

The sounds continued despite his frustration. A consistent sound that only grew closer and closer. A fluttering  _ Ba-Bump… Ba Bump… Ba Bump… _

  
  


He pushed his taxed cybernet to forcibly come online, feeling the ache shredding his muscles as his nanites cannibalized them for his directed resource transfer. 

A flurry of harsh symbols in written Ahaz crossed his closed eyes.  _ Error, Structural Integrity Impaired. Rerouting Primary Core Function. Err-  _ he ignored them, dismissing them all into the background of his stream of consciousness with half a thought.

His instincts screamed a bloody mantra of  _ DangerKillDangerKillNowNOW  _ as the sound crept too close for comfort. 

A thought made itself sluggishly made itself known, scraping at the edge of his thoughts. The sounds were a  _ heartbeat. _

His limbs tingled, and then  _ burned _ with the resources devoted to them, sparking down his spine like explosives. He was hit full on by a wall of energy surging within him. 

With that, he sprung. Launching himself blind but for sound with a vicious snarl of rage and primal fear.

He was  **Suriel** , and he would not go gentle into his goodnight. His bared teeth snapped from their sheaths into full extension from the line of his dark, bluish gums and buried themselves in the approaching enemy.

The form in his grasp was softer than anything he could ever remember, furred and delectably squishy. It struggled vainly in his inexorable grasp. He splayed a hand through the downy fluff in a moment of childlike wonder.

He pressed, testing the bounds of the delicate mush of meat and felt more than heard the bones snap under his hand. The creature stilled for the last time, and he set about settling the howling in his head for  _ sustenance. _

He yanked the flesh snared in his maw, tearing it free. Warm and wet ichor hit his tongue, quenching centuries of forgotten thirst and startling rational thought from his blabbering mind.  _ Meat.  _ He was lost to the hunger within moments, tearing and consuming the warm, wet flesh that filled him with such delicious want. 

His tongue scraped slivers of flesh, which he happily gulped down. Regret slammed into him like an iron wall as his stomach gave a queasy roll. The organ was unused to such rich components flooding it so quickly, and it grumbled protest. He forced himself to still and be satisfied with his stolen taste.

He would need to re-feed himself slowly. He’d seen too many of his brothers and sisters die after a resource drought when they gorged themselves. 

Their bodies had rotted from the inside, no longer able to process anything usable from the sustenance. What they had eaten had stilled and sat in their stomach, methodically rotting their blood and starving them. It was a horrible way to die. One that he didn’t want to share.

He could still taste the lush protein and iron that sparked down his throat. The carbon and chemical compounds his body would easily process into /energy/. Vital components. He needed them so badly he thought just for a moment he would  _ die. _

He’d never tasted blood so clean. So unmarred by the hazards of the deadlands. He would have salivated in great globs of drool if he had the spare components to create saliva anymore. 

Unwilling to waste a single drop, his long bluish tongue snaked free and pulled every  _ atom _ of his unanticipated delicacy, a groan of want shivering through him as he tasted the exquisite flavour. 

He shoved himself up to his hands and knees, reptilian tail trailing heavy and useless behind him, the thinly barbed spikes harmless without the energy to use them.

It turned out to be a fatal mistake. Devoting his concentration to his meal had taken it from his many injuries, and his limbs crumpled beneath him with a crunching whine of bone shifting against displaced bone. 

Fuck. He was grounded and as good as dead. He unleashed a hellish snarl of frustration, but it might as well have been the chirp of a nestling, for all he could move. He hadn’t made it this far to die like a weakling in the muck.

He forced his eyes to peel open, magnifying the ache in them tenfold for every millimeter he forced them to move. For a long, heart-stopping moment everything was too bright to see…

The moment came where his eyes filtered through what he saw- and shock, unfiltered surprise tore him wide open. The Butchered Gehennan poured from his lips unprompted, brain only just catching up after the fact.

“What…  _ How…?” _

Far above the swaying massive trees, the moon blinked back at him. Pale white and impossibly.. Whole. No longer was it a shell of displaced asteroids clinging to the outer reaches of the earth’s atmosphere. 

The ache in his eyes had been  _ light. _ This was impossible. He was going insane. This was a cruel trick, a hell beyond hells. No, he was dreaming. He had to be.

In a moment of absolute panic, he shoved a finger into his mouth and bit it clean off, reveling in the bittersweet burn. To his surprise and horror, hope bludgeoned his heart to an aching pulp.

The moon remained whole before his two pairs of eyes despite rapid blinking. Well shit, he thought to himself. This certainly changes things.

Three hours passed before Suriel realized he had not stopped his awestruck gazing at the moon. The  _ whole, gleaming _ moon. His eyes stung, and he refused to believe it was from anything other than the glaring light reflecting from this world’s actually useful sun. 

A ticklish sensation itched at his cheeks. A clawed hand reached up to scratch, only to come away  _ wet.  _ He pulled his hand out in front of him, only to see the lightening of the horizon reflecting off ivory tinted tears that dribbled down his thumb.

How long had it been since he’d had fluid to spare for sorrow? The thought blindsided him, bludgeoned his bruised heart- and his core shuddered, giving a melodic whine as emotions abruptly overwhelmed it.

He gave in to the saccharine pull of desolation, form shuddering in great heaving sobs that pulled his ripped ligaments. The pain fueled his grief. 

Long denied emotions surged like a tidal wave and consumed him. He unleashed it all into the landscape before him, dimly aware of the ear-shattering roar he had loosed. He cursed his weakness for every tear he shed. 

Something delicate and ugly, something all too  _ human _ shuddered inside of him despite his best efforts. Blossoming with the freedom to grieve, he wept like a frightened babe and wished for a mother to clutch him to her warm bosom. Wanted it so bad he could taste it.

Time passed this way and soon he ran dry of the precious fluids he had expended. He sat in solemn vigil, remembering the countless lives he had chosen not to think of. Days passed in his isolated mournings.

Nothing approached him, the crackling fissure of power he had carved into the land around him warning off anything brave enough to chance upon the scent of his meal. The strange furred beast with hooves and strange, branching horns  rotted in his grasp.

* * *

The smell woke him from his restless lament. Fetid, decomposing flesh burrowed into his nose and prompted a groan. His skin felt stiff and stretched over his cramping muscles and he desperately had to pee.

Despite all of this, he felt  _ Stronger. _ Days of his systems exposed to sunlight had recharged his cells with heat and light enough to last him at least the next few hours without collapsing. He knew it would not last near as long as he wanted it to.

He was utterly lost, now without usable sustenance and injured. He needed to seek shelter, and quickly.

Looking down at himself, a new set of issues presented themselves. His legs were horribly mangled. Much of him was, though some of the more troubling issues had resolved with the sustenance and sun he had absorbed. His insides no longer felt like they were boiling inside of him.

His legs, though. Their particularly birdlike shape made landing a little easier, but he  _ had _ fallen from an unknown height. His joints were shoved out of place so long his four long, claw-like toes on each foot had gone cold and numb.

He flopped onto his back, shifting until the position didn’t spark aches up his spine from compressing his tail. He needed his arms first. He flattened the heel of a mostly-whole hand on the shoulder joint, hissed a deep inhale and  _ shoved. _

A small pop greeted his efforts which was utterly out of proportion with the screaming pain in the ignored joint. Pins and needles stabbed down his scaled skin with a vengeance, as if punishing him for waiting so long. 

He set about giving the few joints in his arms a similar treatment. His fingers were bent so far backwards in places that it was more likely they had entirely shattered. He would need to bind them for it to heal. 

One problem at a time. Legs, were the present issue. His left femur was certainly broken, and throbbed relentlessly. Some of his breaks had healed under the warm sun thankfully. But this he could not fix at the moment. He settled on pressing both hands on his other hip joint, cursing vividly in every language he knew. It was not many, considering. Hip joints were the absolute worst.

Inhaling with a steady whine, he steeled himself and  _ pushed _ . 

His blood-curdling screech echoed for miles, and frightened the life out of enough birds that Suriel would have been entirely pleased with himself in different circumstances.

* * *

He hobbled through the dark undergrowth sometime later, dragging a mangled leg behind him and balancing on the fractured bones of the other. He’d put back in place all that he could.

His eyes stung in sweet relief from the beading eye of the hot sun overhead, and finally his sensory net had come online and calibrated with his nose. Scents of all sorts battered him, informing him of the rich environment he had fallen into.

There was water nearby. He could  _ smell _ the aching freshness, and he hobbled towards it. Where there was water, there was likely shelter of some sort. He smelled rock, and something wetly green. 

He let his mind wander to distract himself from the stabbing ache shooting through his mangled limbs.

It was going to feel so good to soak years of stuck shed off his scales. Maybe he’d finally get his  _ colours _ back. They had faded in his youth from lack of components to produce the vibrant pigments. He had never even seen his adult colours, but his scales from birth had been a lovely yellow shade.

Not that he had anyone to strut around impressing, he thought to himself with a snort. Still, it was nice to feel sprucey once in a while. That was besides the point.

His ruminations abruptly ceased. He broke through the final layer of underbrush to find.. A small lake stretched before him, full to the brim with fresh water. 

A whoop of joy burst from his chest and before he knew it, he had tossed himself full-body into the chilly waves. It was cold! He shuddered from toe claw to horn tip as he waded deeper, unwilling to let go of the soothing lap of the liquid.

He floated through the searing afternoon, soaking in a strange dichotomy of sun and water. 

When the sun dipped below the horizon, he dragged himself from the lake and set about finding the shelter. Well, where there was water, there was life. Keen eyes the colour of blue agate, scanned the shoreline-  _ There!  _ Just on the edge of the lake, a trail of smoke peeled into the darkening sky.

Food and shelter all in one. Wasn’t he lucky? The thoughts were sharp as his grin. Teeth glinted like silver coins from blue gums, extending past where his closed jaw could accommodate them. He sprung forward with unnatural grace, walking on the side of his dislocated ankle without the hesitation of before.

He was consumed by the hunt. His core demanded this savagery from him. Why should he deny himself anything?

He earned it. He  _ needed it. _ He wanted it! Possession curled claws into his stomach and  _ yanked _ , sending him to a furious sprint. 

Nothing would stand in his way.


	3. Merciful God, Forgiving God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heat of the sun beats down hard on Suriel, surpringly warm and effective. He has no idea why he's here, but he might as well enjoy the spoils. 
> 
> Or otherwise known as  
> Bug are not Tasty, but people are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Just a disclaimer, this chapter goes over some controversial religious views in old Hebrew-Style biblical middle east. 
> 
> These characters aren't representative of my views on any religious belief, nor do I think their views should be taken as evidence of current religious views!
> 
> The characters in this chapter are meant to be loved and hated in equal measure. They're horrible people, but they're also human. They are complex, and as relateable as they might be irredeemable. 
> 
> If you find yourself mourning and triumphant for Suriel by the end of the first scenes, I have done my job correctly! 
> 
> Also this is a trigger warning, there is graphic gore in this chapter.
> 
> Song for this Chapter:  
> In a Week -Hozier  
> Help I’m Alive -Metric

Alon heaved a heavy sigh as they trekked onwards in the wretched heat of Ancient Israel in the year 155 BC, the only sound accompanying them being a stiflingly bitter silence and the pitter patter of their feet on the packed down dust of the path. 

The sun broiled them from above, made all the worse by their long robes. It was almost too much. But, he resigned himself to the thought that Elohim ḥayyim assigned no man, woman or child a task above what they can handle. The living god was just and passionate, as he had always read in his scriptures. 

He felt sinful having these thoughts, and dedicated the next three hours of their journey to prayer. Repentance felt bittersweet when paired with the outright heresy of those he was traveling with. A savage  _ Witch, _ consorter of Lillith and Lepers to be brought to the Judean Desert for cleansing. 

Their sort had abandoned the Lord for more nefarious masters he thought, leaning over to hawk and spit to the side. Degenerates. Filthy  _ Savages. _ He felt positively giddy about what would soon become of them. What had become of all of those he was charged with  _ cleansing.  _

  
  


The hot middle eastern sun dipped near to the flat horizon, spilling blood red fingers of light through the sky. Alon supposed they looked like the vengeful claws of the Angels, spreading wrath and might across the very sky. 

He looked to their captives, eyes lingering over the witch. Through her hair wrap and robes, he could see the hint of a voluptuous shape. With dark ebony locks and bronzed skin, delicate features and soft brown eyes, she was beautiful. Their eyes met, and he felt oddly enchanted. Oh, how he wanted her.

In that moment he hated her with a black vitriol so potent he feared he would drown in it. How  _ DARE  _ she ensnare him her devilry. Infect him with her rot. Sinner. She was a Sinner! He snarled a harsh rebuke, brow furrowing. His hand snapped across her cheek with a harsh crack.

He gloated at her pained sob. Served her right. Servant whore of Lillith deserved to reap her rewards. 

Sometimes in the late hours, he cursed his mortality and the sins Eve had cursed them all with. Women were only worth what they could be used for. He would be no slave to the charms of the fairer sex. They were the gateway to all sin. He reached to the rough rope that tugged them onwards, and yanked. 

An elderly woman tied into the line collapsed from the heat. There would be no mercy for her here. His hands left bruises on her upper arms as he pulled her back up. From this close, he could see the milky yellow of her sightless eyes, and smell the rot of infection keenly wafting from her paper-thin skin. 

His face crinkled in disgust, and he rejected the budding sympathy. He would not be dragged to Sin. He would stand firm as God directed him. 

Alon looked to the rest of his followers. Brave and foolhardy Elimelech who had never shied from a task. Itamar, whose hair billowed about his shoulders in rich curls. He had often heard Itamar muttering his verses while they traveled in a voice like honey. 

He looked fondly to the youngest of them. Forgetful Menashe, who was prone to boyish daydreams. He had only reached his eleventh summer this season past, so it was to be expected. He had the makings of a fine man and would make a good, devout husband given time and guidance. 

He’d have to beat the weak heart from the boy first, though. He’d caught Menashe offering water to their captives when he’d thought Alon couldn’t see. 

“We’ll camp here for the evening. We’ve made it far enough.”

He rumbled gruffly as the bowl shape of the valley came into view. Experience taught him that the Sea of Galilee lay in the very bottom of the shallow valley, full of fresh water for drink and bathing. 

His companions gave an uttered sigh of relief, ready to wash the stink of the past 3 days of travel from their skin. He broke out into a rough chuckle, muttering beneath his breath about the lazy travellers he had been stuck with. 

He laughed when Elimelech flicked a beetle at him for his troubles. 

Alon chose to busy himself with the evenings tasks instead of indulging in the bickering his companions liked to engage in at this time of night. The hour of daylight they had left would barely be enough to reach the edge of the lake and set up camp by it’s shores.

“Elim, Menashe. Get a move on. I want to eat my dinner  _ warm _ , not cold.”   
  
He griped, though by the bright grins of the pair, they understood half his grizzly response was more for appearances than anything. He thanked the benevolent god above for the gifts that were his friends. They made the best of him. 

They crossed the lip of the valley with stumbling steps while the light faded, and managed to make it to the water’s gentle shores in time to set up a camp.    
  
“Itamar. Help me dig a fire pit. Elim, secure the  _ wretches. _ And collect us water for the night _ ” _

He looked then to Menashe, who looked at Alon like the man carried the secrets of God in the back of his trousers. He rolled his eyes at the hopeful expression 

“Menashe, fetch firewood.”   
  
His companions split into their tasks like a fine-tuned instrument, each upholding their given instruction with little difficulty. Elim seemed to enjoy his task in particular, taunting a young leper with baying laughter.

In very little time at all, a fire had been stoked in a shallow firepit that held a spit and a crude pot to heat their wine in the chilly desert-evening temperatures. 

The rationed meat they had brought were soon sizzling deliciously over the fire. It was a perfect evening, chilly with a bit of a warm wind that felt like breath on your skin. It was refreshing after a day in the savage heat. 

With a belly full of bread and warm wine, he stumbled to his feet with flushed cheeks.    
  
“I’m going to wash. Be _ have _ or I’ll shave you in your sleep.”    
  
He was greeted with a few well wishes and laughter he paid no mind to, trudging to the chilly lake with a cleanish cloth tossed over his shoulder for his washing. He hissed as the water lapped icy tongues at his toes. Then his ankles, and his calves. 

He paused there, knee deep in the calm and looked to the reflection of the sky. The moon was just a pale sliver the thickness of an eyelash, low in the sky. It would be a while until it’s light was enough to see clearly. He dipped the cloth in the chilly waters, and set about wiping the dust from his bronze skin. Though he was shivering by the end of it, the task was certainly a soothing one.

There was something inexplicably relaxing about ridding yourself of the day’s filth. Like a baptism at the end of every day, he feld reborn as the layers of caked dirt became slurry that drizzled easily from his skin. 

Suddenly the water seemed to blaze with light from within, the reflection of the sky dazzling him. His startled shout must have drawn his companions from their campfire, as they burst from the underbrush behind him.

He hardly had time to think of modesty before his eyes were drawn upwards to a blazing, screaming light that fell from the heavens. 

His mind blanked as he watched the form impact the other side of the tiny sea, stirring a wave in seconds that slapped up to his hips.

He did not feel the lap of the water’s chill. He was numb, shocked to his very core. A brief glance to the open-jawed looks of his companions told him he was not alone in that sentiment. 

What had they just witnessed? Was this an act of god? Had the archangelos been sent to bless them upon their path?

His thoughts slammed back into full volume, screeching a hundred questions that overlapped. His head ached with the sheer force of his curiosity. 

The meagre group was struck speechless for a long few moments, as the moon climbed higher and higher in its path over their heads. 

A shudder crept down his spine, curling forebodingly low in his belly. Had God thrust another betrayer from heaven’s light?

He snapped out to Elim and Menashe, who were closest to him. The water lapped at their ankles.    
  
“We’ll keep watch tonight. I’ll take first watch. Be on your guard, men. The Adversary works in the guise of night.”

They stumbled their way half-blind to their makeshift camp in an uneasy silence, shaking dewy water from their skin. 

Alon paused for a long moment, looking over his shoulder into the evening’s gloom. He scanned the horizon, but couldn’t see anything past the water’s edge, and the dark fluid lapped hauntingly at the shore in a gurgling whisper. Murky depths unyielding to his gaze. He buried his desperation where he could no longer feel it. He had God’s work to do. 

When he finally turned to follow the hacked path back to camp, he couldn’t help but feel the shivery touch of eyes following his every move. God help him, let those eyes be only the nightlife of the lake and not something more sinister.    
  


* * *

Suriel’s lips frothed and dribbled thick globs of something too thick to be properly called drool as he watched his prey retreat from the water’s edge. His teeth snapped from their sheathes inside his swollen blue gums and clattered together in a wet snap of anticipation. 

He was hungry..  _ HungryHungryHUNGRY!  _ The chant thundered through his mind relentlessly. It took everything he had not to pounce the moment the stupid creature showed the Demon King his back. He was  _ vulnerable. _

With more effort than it should have taken, he reasoned with his roaring instincts to tear and maim. If he struck now, he would likely lose the opportunity for the rest of the group of prey to be his feast. Considering his diminished state, that is.

He stalked around their camp at a distance, ears flicking as he picked up the low drone of their hushed voices. They spoke in a rhythmic language foreign to his ears. It was punctuated with low, throaty rasps and rumbling grunts. He’d enjoy learning that one, soon. 

Finally his neural net had calibrated enough that his distance tracking was near perfect, as was depth perception and hearing. 

He wanted- no, Needed the sweet calcium of their bones and the iron of their blood. His broken limbs pained him, and would not cease until he found adequate materials to replace what his body was forced to scrap.

Else he would be forced to abandon his near-perfect vessel. An outcome he would like to avoid at all costs, thank you very much. 

Wasn't like he was going to find anything better suited to him in this strange place without messing considerably with the timelines.

The moon climbed above the sparse trees between him and his quarry. He paused to watch it’s travels with a weary sigh. He didn’t  _ understand. _ How could this be? He’d tried so hard for this in the deadlands, and nothing came of it. 

He shoved the thoughts down and away before melancholy could set in and filled his mind instead with the task ahead. 

A few unfamiliar insects fluttered past him. He punished them for their insolence by shoving them hastily into his mouth with gooey crunches. Yes, definitely just for their punishment he muttered to himself. 

Or just that he was inescapably hungry. The rich protein in the tiny bodies satiated him for a fraction of a second, before he was disgusted with the slimy texture.

He swiped his scaled blue tongue over his teeth, feeling the icky film his impromptu snack had left there. Guh. He really needed to get a hold of himself, this was just getting gross. Even for him. 

He let his mind lapse into easy silence, focused instead on the lilting cadence of voices in the camp he stalked. They muttered in a rhythmic, complex language that he didn’t recognize.

_ Bzzzzz…. Bbzz…… Bzzzzt- CRUNCH. _

Suriel stifled a sigh through his second mouthful of insect. His lack of self-control was shameful. Reprehensible, really. Now he’d have to taste that slime for the next hour or three while he waited.

He just wished he could convince himself to spit the slime out, but that would admit he’d had a momentary lapse of judgement. No, he resigned himself to the tacky sensation in his mouth. 

He’d deal with that later. Something else snared his attention. The silence around him had been disturbed. How wonderful. His appetizer had arrived. 

There was a sharp  _ crack _ of a stick underfoot, and the shuffling of a sightless creature stumbling through the dark a short way to his right. It seemed to have come from the lake, judging by the wet smell. 

He strained towards the noise in a sinuous stretch, crumpled leg dragging behind him noisily. He wouldn’t have the benefit of surprise for this one.

Luckily it didn’t sound like he needed it. The creature stalled in the underbrush, calling out in a soft whispery murmur. He reached forward with a finger, and pressed on a nearby branch thick as his wrist. The crisp  _ snap _ that rang out stalled his quarry further. 

As his prey came into his line of view, he realized.. It looked much like him, when his core was unmanifested. 

Two legs held it upright, with dark tan skin, forward facing eyes and a small tuft of odd, curly fur topped on the round globe of it’s skull. 

It looked.. Oddly familiar. What was the word.. Ah-  _ human. _ The creature looked like the strange, fragile  _ humans _ he’d been told so much about. 

Animal, vegetable, mineral. He wasn’t going to waste time in a debate.

His form coiled like a lithe, reptilian spring under the guise of the foliage. Closer.. Just a little closer..

The buzzing of his mind had reached a fever pitch. He couldn’t hear himself think over the roar of instincts. His ears were ringing.

Just one more step.. One more, and the creature would be  _ His. _

He  **exploded.**

The searing hunger became searing, all-encompassing fury, and he launched himself at the prone human with claws extended, jaw snapping wide as though to swallow them  _ whole. _

The next few seconds were a foggy blur of his mind. The human in his grasp let forth a shrill scream as long claws divested it of organs. They spilled in a hot rush from it’s messily slashed abdomen, falling to the dirt in a steaming mess. 

It was so  _ soft. _ Nothing about it was armoured or defensive. It’s skin did not regenerate, and when he pressed at it’s delicate ivory bones, they snapped with all the pressure of a hair. No snapping aspect sizzled across his skin in warning, and when the human’s mouth opened in another aching scream, it’s teeth were boring and blunt. How weak. 

Suriel’s lips curled around his slimy teeth in a gleeful sneer. He hunched over the human and began his feast, paying no mind to it’s piteous dying whimpers. 

The slick blood and flesh sated something in his core that he hadn’t known he needed. Relief so strong that he had to pause for a shuddering breath. 

The cruelty spurned him onwards, and bones crunched under the pressure of his maw. It was decadent. Luxurious, even. The silky smooth ichor sliding down his throat felt heavenly. 

He was lost, drowning in the sensations. Yet he had never felt so  _ alive  _ in his many centuries. Nothing would take this from him, he vowed. He’d swaddle himself in this comfort wherever he found it for as long as he lived. 

And he would live forever. 

His chest rumbled with a rocky sound. It had been so long since he’d heard it that it took him a long minute to recognize the sound of his own purr. 

He hissed in loss when the body beneath him began to cool, steaming in the cool desert air. Sounds abruptly returned to him in a cacophonous hum. 

He looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of movement. How lovely, his meal had  _ come to him.  _ He pulled himself up in a senior stretch of rolling muscle. 

_ Snap! … Crunch! _

His bones snapped into place as he straightened his leg, pops and cracks audible to the horror of his present company. 

Ah, that was better. The sharp stabbing pain in his limbs had settled to a dull ache with the influx of materials devoted to healing, skin steaming as centuries of pockmarked, rotting radiation burns sealed in mere minutes.

His fingers, which had been mostly peeled back, divested of skin and bent all the way backwards, suddenly gave sharp popping noises as they shifted back into their natural position unaided. 

He clenched his newly restored fist, claws retracting one by one in a pleasantly smooth motion. He extended them once more, more than satisfied with how they snapped to full extension with half a thought. The thick, black extensions of his fingers more resembled talons than anything.

Blood dried gummily on those talons, and he extended his tongue to wrap twice around the digits, lapping up his leftovers.

Waste not want not. He wasn’t  _ entirely _ without manners. Ah- how rude of him, he hummed through a smug, delighted sneer. He’d entirely forgotten to introduce himself to his  _ guests. _

  
  


* * *

  
  


The fire crackled warmly between them. Something deep in Alon’s chest unwound at the unbridled levity of Elim and Manashe bragging about how far they could spit. Such boys, those two. On the cusp of manhood, and still they were young enough to remind him of his sons. God rest their souls. 

“You just cheat, what with those  _ buck teeth! _ You look just like a camel, lips flapping like that _ ”  _ the taunt came with a hearty example, Menashe loosing his lips and blowing raspberries. 

“Hey! I’ll show you a camel you brat!” came the indignant reply. 

The sound of a hearty wallop had Menashe yelping. Elim had snapped out hand and clapped it over the back of Menashe’s neck with enough force that he stumbled forward. 

Alon reached up to rub away the budding headache from behind his eyes, shoulders shaking with an exasperated chuckle. 

“Boys, at least  _ act _ like you aren’t still wet behind the ears, aye?” His grin belied his mirth despite himself, and he received a few sputtering denials for his troubles. 

Itamar had taken to shoving handfuls of straw down the back of Elim’s shirt in the distraction with a teasing holler. 

Alon fought the urge to cuff them all and scold them for their juvenile conduct. The journey had been hard on them. It had been hard on them all, but Alon knew better than most. 

These moments of joy would fuel them in the days to come, and he let them savour the lighthearted fun. It was a long road to the desert of the Saviour. 

It was a longer road when demons in the soft skin of women haunted your every step. He prayed to the Lord above they would return from this whole. The Adversary hounded them at every step, he knew. Nipping at their heels like feral dogs in the night.

“Aye,  _ old man. _ ” Itamar bantered back with an easy grin. He was full of those, honeyed smiles that tugged at his heart. Eli had smiled like that. Like nothing in the wide world could ever touch him. 

He shifted, sipping at his warm mulled wine. The warmth of it settled soothingly in his stomach, heat reaching his cheeks where they pinked. The world felt far away, buried under a blanket of calm, and warm. 

He drifted in and out like the tide, hardly even noticing when Itamar stood and stumbled into the woods to piss. 

Sleep crept on him, growing like a mossy blanket behind his eyes. Lids suddenly felt heavy. The soft comfort of the moment had struck him drowsy now that the electrified wariness had faded in the light of the fire. 

He slipped to a light rest that was punctuated by the jabbering tone of Menashe and Elim’s bickering. 

He did not know how long he had slept when the sound woke him.

A shrill,  _ agonized _ scream rang out, echoing harshly in the dim light. That was a sound of violence, and death. 

The fire had burnt low, and blinding fear gripped him. His head whipped about their camp, doing a quick headcount. Elim and Menashe looked up at him blearily from their bedrolls. His heart beat loud in his ears. Panic, dripped icy cold down his spine. 

The third bedroll was empty.  _ Itamar. _ The boy with  _ His son’s smile. _

When the second scream registered in his mind, he was already moving. Menashe and Elimelech yanked themselves free from their bedrolls, reaching for bronze, leaf-shaped daggers with wooden hilts. 

Alon’s curved axe was already in his grasp, and they streaked through the underbrush towards where they had last heard noise. 

The night had lapsed into an eerie silence. A predatory stillness, as even the insects seemed to hold their breath in tiny lungs. Though the moon was bright, something was oppressive about the darkness. 

His heart beat in a frenzied rush in his ears, a paralysing fear clenching his muscles to stone. Was he too late? Oh Elohim ḥayyim, he prayed frantically. Let him not be too late. Not  _ again. _

They broke through the thick foliage- and stepped into a corner of  _ hell. _

Itamar lay splayed open like an offering unto the sky..  _ Gutted.  _ His features were frozen in deathly permanence, the terror and inelegant agony seared itself to Alon’s brain. Blood bubbled still warm on his paling lips.

Alon’s heart dropped to his stomach, and he vaguely heard Menashe vomit into the bushes. A sick shadow had swallowed them up in the night, he thought. This was a nightmare. A wretched dream, it  _ had to be. _

Alon moved towards Itamar, the urge to touch him and make it  _ fade, let it not be real _ overcoming him. He was no more than half a pace from the body when something struck him as odd.

There were no trees above him.. So why was the lower half of Menashe’s body  _ shadowed? _ Alarm and primal, visceral terror thundered through him. His eyes widened, flashing the whites of them in blind fear.  _ Predator! _ His mind screamed.  _ FLEE! _

He scrambled back so fast he fell soundly on his behind, only to watch in abject dread as the shadow stilled on Itam’s body..  _ Moved. _ It lengthened, and seemed to take shape. Colour leeched back into it in increments, until what stood before him was.. Baffling. 

He fought the urge to gag himself at the sight. Surely a demon from  _ hell itself _ stood before him. Gristle and carrion slipped from it’s too-wide maw, where it had been  _ eating Itamar. _

He lost the battle then, barely making it to the side to messily spew his dinner out his mouth, with such force that it came stinging from his nose, too. 

Before him was a creature ripped straight from the pits. It stood taller than Alon- taller by three heads. 

A rakishly thin body was covered in bloody and torn sores, though that didn’t obscure the murky yellow scales that stretched from it’s round, hairless head to it’s long, serpentine tail. It’s maw seemed to stretch from one spindly, long ear right to the other. 

Spiked protrusions lined it’s jaw, leading up to hellish horns that angled to the sky, before dipping around to circle it’s ears. 

The teeth within that maw were a sight to behold, overlapping in two crooked rows of red-stained ivory. They protruded from bright blue gums, and a scaled blue tongue poked from within to lap up  _ Itamar’s blood.  _

He heard his companions utter hasty prayers for protection as he took in the creature further. His heart beat a desperate staccato against his breastbone, and only experience kept his bladder from releasing over himself. 

Menashe was not so lucky, and the bitter stench of urine wafted by his nose. 

_ Four _ eyes sat deep in dark hollows that were sockets. Two facing forward, and the other pair lining the slant of  _ it’s _ cheekbone. Each was a burning ember of reddish-gold set in it’s skull. 

Thin arms led to thinner fingers, all bent in awkward and unnatural angles. The latter, tipped with thick black claws that splintered near the ends. 

He followed the creature’s form downwards, it’s chest glowing with some strange heat _.  _ Lower, to a tapered and gaunt stomach caved in on one side.

Lower still, were thighs that ended too soon to be human, and bent  _ backwards _ , knee inverted like a bird’s. The resemblance ended there, as the thing’s  _ feet _ were five long scaled toes capped in deadly looking black talons. 

Behind it swung a long tail, tipped in ebony barbs. 

Alon watched in horrified silence, as the warped and puckered bone-deep sores coating the  _ thing’s _ skin closed before his eyes, threading together with fleshy strings of muscle and new skin. 

Wet, popping sounds echoed in the night air as it’s bones snapped and popped unnaturally from their grotesque positions. Fingers which had been broken and askew aligned with simultaneous cracks.

The creature’s maw parted, and a guttural language clawed and tore at them like a living beast. Something wet ripped in the space behind his eyes, agony piercing his skull like a hot poker. 

His ears gave a sharp howling ache, and the urge to claw his ears until he could never hear that hellish sound again itched under his skin. His nails dug deep furrows in the skin, helpless against the **wrongness** of the sound.

The world  _ warped  _ before his very eyes, and he felt wetness touch at his lips. 

A finger brushed under his nose to find he was bleeding from his nose. A tickle by his ears, and the dull ringing became a sickening gurgle as his ears dribbled similarly. Itamar was screaming, and screaming, and  _ screaming, _ hands clasped over his ears as he wailed like a child. 

That hellish blue tongue slipped out in a sinuous trail to lap up  _ Itamar’s blood _ from black, curved claws. Burning embers flitted to them, pinning them with it’s horrid, unrepentant gaze. The weight of it was crushing _. _

He scrambled to his feet, hands fisting in Elim and Menashe’s robes, and  _ yanked _ , tugging them to stumble behind him as the urge to flee overwhelmed them. 

The creature followed hot on their heels, the dry brush of hard scales on the passing foliage grating to their ears. Bald terror alone kept them buoyed in their mad dash for safety, the forest’s previously welcome scent seemed stifling, cloyingly sweet and metallic at the back of Alon’s throat. 

Somewhere behind him, Elim stumbled. He fell flat on his front in the muck, babbling pleas for mercy none of them could hear over the ringing of their ears. 

_ Don’t Stop Don’t Stop Don’tEverStop _

His heart beat in time to the mantra. He made his choice, hauling Menashe alone in a frenzied gallop away from Elim’s desperate screams. 

* * *

  
  


Suriel patted his rounded belly, which ached from the sheer amount he had consumed in the past hours. Despite his obvious pain, he lapped more ichor from the wicked curve of his claws. His core, pulsed in contended swirls of his aspect.

It curled warmly in the chamber in the centre of his chest with a soothing rumble of 

_ ContentFullWellFedContentmentSatisfaction _ _ Sleepy. _

He crunched a small bone between his teeth, sharpening their edges on the pale shard. His teeth had grown somewhat dull without good care, in the deadlands.  _ He _ had grown dull. His claw wriggled beneath one of the thicker scales of his thigh, pulling up a cloudy plate of stuck shed. 

A tingling sense of relief washed through the revealed scales, which were soft and malleable to the touch. They would harden in the day’s air, and brighten in the sun. The dusty, faded yellow already showed signs of promise. The beginnings of a handsome bronze and gold patterning burgeoned the new flesh. 

His meal had already gone a long way to heal old wounds. He’d had a crack in his core chamber for  _ centuries, _ the damned thing ached and stung like acid on a cut on good days. It was all but forgotten now, the sting replaced with an itchy ache of healing. 

  
  


Speaking of itch.. He groused, reaching up a hand to viciously claw at his bald scalp. He was so  _ itchy. _ When his claws met something.. Soft, he paused. 

What was.. ?

He rocketed up on steady legs, tail lashing to catch his teetering balance. When he reached the lake’s shore, he peered into the water at his reflection.. And  _ choked. _

He was growing HAIR! He was growing hair again, for the first time in literal Millenia, his scalp had just the beginnings of peach fuzz. He hadn’t even  _ seen _ hair on anything since the radiation storms had hit the main populations. 

He felt giddy, excitable even. Stars above he’d  _ never _ cut it.

He hummed in delight and accessed his internal interface, stark Gehennan fluttering across his line of vision in informational directives. He blinked, shifting nanites from the healing effort to the restoration of his hair follicles. 

His scalp felt warm and tender, the ticklish sensation of nanites beneath his skin leaving him wanting for a good scratch. He dare not press them out of his capillaries where they worked with the pressure of itching.

He watched the delicate, silky strands of pale white-blonde grow to pool into his waiting palm. He wasted more of his meal than perhaps he should have on the venture, ceasing only when pale shimmering blond fell easily to his waist. A guilty pleasure.

Soft pleasure mixed with mild pain tingled through his scalp as he combed the new strands, still overly sensitive to the tugging weight. 

Perhaps.. Could he even?

He pondered the thought for a long moment, before taking a deep steadying inhale and shifting his core from the prime materia to aspect. To his surprise, there was no bone-crunching grind of metal in protest. His core shifted from physical form to dissolve within his aspect as it always had. 

With it, horns and scales and tail receded beneath a more humanoid appearance, albeit flecked with blood. Teeth, claws and ears shrunk to proportion in delicate looking points. 

Milky pale skin blossomed out from his chest, covering his more inhuman features. His tail shrunk, and sprouted pale white-blonde fur to match the cap of hair. Last to shift were his legs, which snapped into proper position with sharp  _ cracks _ , inverted knees becoming all-too human. 

He looked down at himself in curiosity.. Only to fall flat on his face, legs tangled together in his tail. The latter getting a fierce yank in the process

“AH!” he shrieked in alarm at the smarting pain.  _ That _ was interesting. His tail was much more sensitive in this form, it seemed. Hmm, something to explore later. 

He shook his head fiercely, and  _ Pop! _ Something protruded from the top of his head, relieving a pressure of his aspect settling in his vessel that he hadn’t realized was there. He reached up.. To find a long curly strand in the shape of a short spring, curling in a loose corkscrew that sprouted from the centre of his scalp and flopped in the wind.

Odd. Well, likely just a quirk of this new hair situation. It did feel  _ right. _ Like his spine had popped satisfyingly after a good stretch.

Now, what were those bothersome strips of cloth the humans had worn? Yes-  _ clothing, _ it was called. He remembered now. He should check the human’s nest for more of those. 

He would have enjoyed traipsing about in nothing but the red staining his skin, but that would hinder his plans for learning the local language and consorting with humans. His aspect tugged at him insistently. Somehow, learning the local language would prove useful in this timeline. 

Necessary even, for him to maintain the delicate balance of things. 

He struggled to his feet, surefooted as a newborn foal. He tripped over the spindly legs he’d never had before for the second time, slamming a shoulder into a nearby tree with a grunt. There should be  _ clothes _ in the camp. But he had to get there first. 

Curse these weak, human legs. He managed to hobble along with the help of the trees, teetering in a controlled fall between each to make any real ground. By the time camp came into view, his muscles ached. His joints throbbed in disapproval and his shoulder was well and truly bruised. 

He stepped away from the treeline in tottering steps, bone-thin form prone to the elements. Not that he could feel them quite yet, emboldened by his recent meal as he was. 

He leaned onto the sides of his too-slender feet leaning just a bit too far- his arms snapping out in frantic windmills to catch his balance. 

He took one step. Then another, and another. His lips, quirked in an easy grin. See? Nothing so hard about that. 

A hushed sound reached his ears as he stumbled towards the forgotten bedrolls.

Tied in bedraggled rope thick as his boney wrist, were three humans. Each had long, knotted hair and dirt smearing their prone forms. 

Pathetic. Humans, enslaving their own. The smell of them smacked him in an unpleasant wave. They reeked of infection and unwashed bodies. 

His eyes slid from the two healthy looking females- Their scent was seasoned with delicate feminine markers, to the third. This one was older than he had ever seen anything get. Wrinkles marred her skin that was blistered and yellowed. Her hair had gone grey and fallen out in clumps. 

Even from this distance, he could smell the  _ rot _ that riddled her skin. 

Poor creature. Waning like the dying moon and crumbling under illness so putrid the stench of her made him gag. 

He stepped forward, feigning confidence on weary feet. Slick, heady Gehennan poured past his lips like an oil spill. The three near enough to hear howled and shrieked in terror as the language scraped and bit like a living thing.

“Welcome me, maiden. Come to death in comfort.” 

He stretched a clawed hand towards her as if inviting her to dance. The guttural snarl of his hunger awoke, clawing at his belly like a beast. 

“Let me be your funeral shroud.”

He was a beast, yes. But he was not  _ that _ sort of Monster. He would give her a swift death. A cleaner death than awaited her currently. 

In half a thought the ropes that held them all bound fell to the ground, sliced to fraying ribbons by the wicked curve of his newly shortened claws. Good to know they were still sharp, he mused. 

A shaking, wrinkled hand slid into his, to his satisfaction. The elderly woman hobbled as he pulled her to his chest, pressing her cheek to his bare flesh. He hummed a garbled tune and swayed, as though she were a mere infant. 

His chest dampened, and the salt scent of tears wafted to his nose. But, no bitter tang of fear coiled at the back of his throat. Good. He hooked a finger beneath her chin, and lifted her eyes to meet his. Her flesh was like soft clay, delicate enough that the mere touch bruised her. 

Her eyes met the inner pair of his. His pupils widened, as he reached into her mind through the gaze. His aspect brushed against her fragile soul. He invaded, conquered. Her mind opened to his like the blossom of a flower, and he banished fear from every corner. 

He pulled from the depths of her thoughts a memory that tasted like honeysuckle on his lips, and drowned her in it. 

She felt nothing as his thumb claw slipped neatly into the skin of her neck. She knew nothing but the peace of her memory as the black tip scored against bone and snuck between, neatly severing her spine. 

She fell limp and dead against his chest. He felt the moment her soul tore from the spindly connections it had with her body.  _ Good. _

If he had another meal because of his actions? Well, that was just a bonus for his mercy. He retreated back to his own mind and settled heavily in his skull. 

Now. How about that clothing?

* * *

  
  
  


The pair of women had run as soon as the rope wrapped around their wrists and ankles had gone slack. They fled, tearing through the foliage as fast as their legs could carry them away from the monster.

Rebekah knew this much. They had to tell anyone- no,  _ everyone. _ An Angel had fallen, and now disgraced the earth. It wouldn't be long before the wrath of the beast spilled onto mankind.

Her breath wheezed out of her while the hot sun rose, spilling red and pink on the horizon. It was the dawn of a new day, and she wasn't entirely sure if that was for the best or not. 


	4. The Scales of Arrogance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of the Son of Satan shakes up more than a few things, both in Gehenna and Assiah. 
> 
> Or, Suriel's an asshole, Mephisto gets fucked over and Satan's a real beta bitch when it comes down to it. 
> 
> Oh and also Shiro is bae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry for the late update ;; On a side note, this story has undergone some major changes. 
> 
> Part 1: This is the prologue to another story I'm going to write, so this is Book 1 of a series! 
> 
> Part 2: This stories pairings and tags will change with the bit I mentioned above, as this takes place earlier in the timeline (Prior to Rin and Yukio's birth/Their early life) as opposed to later when they are young adults. 
> 
> Part 3: I do have a beta currently whose helping me edit, and she's absolutely fabulous <3 Her username is BelieverInMagic on Fnet and I adore her!  
> Anyways, thank you guys so much for reading! Comments fuel my will to live...

The sun shone warm in the afternoon, beams of light gentle on his cheeks like a sweet caress. He didn’t ever think he’d quite tire of those honeyed rays alighting on his skin. It was one of those simple pleasures that he reveled in. 

Assiah might be a world of strange ways, but it had its perks. Lethargy sept to his bones in the hazy summer warmth and he let himself rest in the thick comfort of it for just a moment more. He wanted more. So much more, but that was the greed that simmered like a living beast under the guise of human flesh. 

That greed could have its way another time. There was work to attend to.

His bones creaked like old forgotten things and the whispers of ancients when he moved, an unfortunate effect of his longevity.

Maybe it was more of an effect of his mood. Nothing sent irritation crawling under his skin like having his luxurious basking interrupted. For  _ paperwork, _ of all things.

He stepped up from the stone he perched upon and turned away from white sands and rolling waves, when an all-encompassing thrum rang through his core. A pulse of

_ HomeGehennaGivenFleshHIMPrinceofDarknessThreadsUnitingBA’ALHIMHIMHIM _

Threatened to knock him clean off his feet. He choked on nothing and wheezed under the sheer weight of the power that swept through him and threatened to send him to the floor. His knees folded like cheap plastic. Assiah itself buckled beneath the strain. The order of things had utterly shattered... And  _ reformed.  _

He dimly recognized that he was calling out. A grating, ear-piercing howl. He felt the Ba’al echo his feral cry, vision whiting out as just for a moment he was no longer  _ him. _ He was  _ ThemUsWeThey _ in a way he’d never been, as his siblings had been in the very beginning of things. The very universe seemed to hold its breath in wait for Assiah to reject the shift- for anything to stir the vibrating tension. 

Then, as if it had never happened at all, the threads between Ba’al stretched taught as they always had. Light to Space to Time to Rot to Fire to Insects, Water to Earth and back again. The shimmering, arching fingers of  _ raw power _ between each left him breathless and aching. He looked within himself and found a new, brilliant strand of connection that he could not quite trace to its origin. 

His aspect had been inexorably connected to this… this  _ usurper, _ for lack of better term. As had that of his brethren he suspected. This was... Unprecedented. It certainly had not happened in his timeline. 

And suddenly, the call was overwhelming.  _ Come Home, _ it whispered in grating tones.  _ Come home to me. _

Suriel’s breath shuddered. The world warped around him and snapped back into place with a flex of aspect. 

Rot, sharp and phosphorous greeted his nose. It was worse than usual- Ah... He was in Gehenna- and so, he was back to himself. Razor-sharp scales lined his skin in shifting gold hues, dark speckles sprayed over his back in patterns like forgotten nebulas. 

His eyes, both sets blazed magma bright and fever-sharp. Gone were his useless little legs, replaced with thick sturdy limbs built for speed and  _ power. _

He rumbled displeasure.  _ Satan _ had called a meeting of the Ba’al. He turned and stepped to the circle of his brethren. His silhouette stretched long in his wake, dark matter convalescing into his form. A subtle  _ Tick.. Tick.. Tock.. Tick..  _ twisted from his core, the gear-like workings audible. 

Familiar, inky shadows curled around his ankles, and he pressed into them. In a cautious attempt to connect he flared his aspect. However, the whip-like appendage receded quickly and left a stinging welt where it had brushed his scales.

The shadows retreated to reveal Samael, and a wave of old, sour anger curled restless in Suriel’s heart. He stood instead beside Beelzebub, the bug-like Ba’al too accustomed to the searing heat of Iblis to be bothered with the constant thrum of volcanic heat seeping from Suriel’s skin. 

“-Then allow me, Samael… to prepare a vessel for you.” The hollow voice from the director of True Cross echoed uncomfortably in the still not-air of Gehenna. Eldritch things crackled in that voice and gooseflesh pimpled Suriel’s scalp. He steadfastly ignored his own contemptible weakness. 

“Brother, _ ” _ Beelzebub buzzed insistently. All of them insisted on calling him that. Fools. Suriel rolled his eyes, spines rattling bone-dry down his nape in irritation.

“Cousin.” He tuned out the conversation, greeting Beelzebub in a voice choppy like the trail of a comet, chilled and sharp. “They are  _ still _ bickering,” Suriel mused. “I had thought they handled this in 86’, after that... Oh, what was it now?” He hissed through teeth that slid from his gums to bare pearly silver in annoyance. “You know how I detest  _ human things _ .”

“Chernobyl.” Beelzebub’s wings rucked up, the dry  _ shhffft _ loud beside him. “Brother, you  _ know _ this is their little game. Brother Samael will never give up on his playthings, and Lucifer is truly mad by now.” Beelzebub hummed, voice a thousand voices all buzzing with insectile life. 

_ Still _ , he grumbled.  _ I was  _ busy, _ damn it all. I didn’t want this _ . But he dared not vocalize anything close to displeasure in the presence of his father. 

Fingers tipped in ashen black claws tugged what was left of his thick turtleneck higher until it swallowed his neck up to his chin. It didn’t drown out the stench of Gehenna, or the brittle voices of the Ba’al. 

Bright light, sudden and vicious bore into his open eyes and stung, forcing them to well with milky blue fluid. He squinted the startled watering of his eyes away, lifting a hand to shield himself. 

“Ugh!!! Too bright!” Beelzebub uttered a sharp oath under his breath, lifting up a hairy fly’s arm to shield his  _ many _ eyes. Suriel did  _ not _ envy him, having that many eyes in this light. 

Why did they have to be so  _ dramatic _ all of the time? Could nothing be a simple, civil conversation? No, this was  _ Lucifer and Samael _ , he thought bitterly. Everyone had to play along to their whims or be eradicated for it. 

“ _ Father.”  _ Lucifer’s voice traveled like a wisp in the wind, light and airy. “ _ I will prepare an even  _ **_better_ ** _ body for you.” _ He spoke strong and sure, as though he hadn’t been utterly annihilated from the face of Assiah moments before. All of them had felt his leaving. He’d not gone gentle, and Assiah had steadfastly ripped him from its plane. 

Samael’s expression tightened just so, the smallest of creases forming between his brow. He was  _ peeved _ . Suriel fought the urge to laugh outright in his face. Serves him right. He hoped that Lucifer laid waste to every single thing Samael treasured and reveled in the cruelty of the thought. 

Samael, all alone and outcast. Forgotten, toys stripped from him.  _ Just like he was when they were- _ He ripped the thought out of his head, lips curling with a snarl. His own shadows billowed outwards, demanding attention. 

“ _ Enough. _ You two are  _ too old _ to behave like spoilt brats.” He spat in Gehennan, bristling his spines threateningly in time with his aspect. Though neither of the brats looked at him, the searing light pulled back just a touch. 

“ **Who are you to command my children?”** Satan growled in a choppy, infantile whine. 

“I am Suriel- Second in Gehenna, and I am loathed to witness foolishness.” He sneered icily. “At your  _ service.” _ Ugh,  _ kids. _ Why did people have them? They were so troublesome. Dealing with this nuisance would wreak havoc on his patience. As if the daily shenanigans of his siblings didn’t, already. 

**“AHAHAHAHAHAHA..** **_More_ ** **sons? Boy oh** **_Boy_ ** **what a day.”** the pile of flesh twitched miserably, the eyes of the blue flame squinting at him in delight.  **“At my service.. Make me a body, then!”** Satan hollered, eyes wide with deadly anger. 

“Ah-” a thought slithered through his mind, sly and absolutely  _ evil. _ “Of course, Father mine. I will assist  _ darling Samael  _ with remaining  _ loyal  _ in his endeavors.. _. _ Would that please you?” He purred, tone smooth as silk. Suriel felt his lips curl up in delight, a grin splitting ear to ear in a reptilian sneer.

Samael’s head whipped towards Suriel with a look of abject horror and rage- not that many could catch the surprise on his features, so minute was the change. 

Pleasure shot through his limbs. The chance to stir trouble in Samael’s immaculate plans was one he’d not pass up lightly. 

Satan’s fire-bright eyes lit on Suriel scrutinizingly. “ **Hmm.. Yes,** **_Yes_ ** **..”** the many eyes of his father blinked in thought.  **“AHAHAHAHAHA.. Yes, I like you, Suriel. You’ll keep the exorcist in line.”**

Suriel bowed, hiding his mocking sneer behind a thin veneer of servitude. 

~= || || =~

* * *

~= || || =~

  
  


There were a rare few times where Suriel cursed his impulsivity in his long existence. Most times, the outcome benefitted him enough to pass off his spur-of-the-moment decisions as some elaborate plan. But this time? Oh, he’d gone and opened a real can of worms asking Satan to task him with watching over  _ Samael’s Pet Project. _

And so here he found himself,  _ very unwillingly invited _ into Samael’s territory in Assiah. He’d dare not enter otherwise- not without good reason. He didn’t want to start  _ another _ world war over territorial disputes, thank you very much. Blood was an utter bitch to get out of his jumpers. Not to mention the wanton waste of valuable assets left much to be desired. 

Suriel denied even to himself that the jittery energy that prickled at his skin was anything other than disgust. He was far too old to be anxious about finding a tiny blip in the timeline like this. 

The throbbing pull in his core from earlier strengthened to a pained yank of  _ PrinceOfAllThingsGehennaCreationLifeDeath.  _ He choked back an entirely undignified yelp, heaving himself from his feet and into a swift jog with an unceremonious huff. 

Coppery warmth flooded over his tongue. He lapped at his lip and it took him an embarrassingly long moment to realize he’d bitten straight through his lower lip and out the other side in his haste. 

Milky blue blood dribbled down his chin and onto his perfectly navy sweater. He cursed in several languages after that. 

Urgency struck, head ringing with the hollow feeling of  _ need _ . He stepped mindlessly into a sprint. He ran on the balls of his feet, digging deep furrows in the concrete and earth wherever he touched to bring himself up to the speed he could manage in this inutile form. 

The run filled him to the brim with vibrating energy. Just for a moment, he needed to get there more than he needed breath, more than he needed  _ meat. _ His world dissolved into a single-minded focus. He reached deep into his aspect and  _ pulled. _

With a concussive snap, he felt the shifting warp of time and space curling its careful fingers around him, before he was deposited at his destination. He was.. In front of an apartment building. 

What.. was the meaning of this? He stepped inside the building, paying no mind to the urgency searing his bones.

There was a crackling  _ hiss, _ unseen wards snapping about his form and ripping his clothing to shreds. He flexed his claws in time to the pulsing of his aspect and  _ pressed. _ The unimaginable weight of him- of  _ SpaceTime _ crushed the wards with a nearly imperceptible whine of bending metal. 

He left the ruination of the gates behind him without consequence and stepped inside the old ruin. His pointed ears flicked, catching up the burbling wail of... An infant? 

_ What? _

Stars above tell him he hadn’t come all this way  _ and _ ruined his favorite shirt for a useless crotch gremlin. 

He inched forward towards the noise and stepped through the threshold into another room, to find a small, wailing bundle wrapped in a cot. 

The infant has a small lock of pale white hair protruding, and a long, white, tail. That isn’t what drew his interest, though. 

That would be because of the brilliant blue flame wreathing the child like a halo of destruction. 

_ Huh. So  _ this _ was the prince Samael had spoken of.  _ A hesitant sniff in the air revealed the achingly familiar ashen scent of Gehenna. His eyes weren’t deceiving him.

One step closer.. Then another, until he was hovering just over the wooden crib that was unaffected by the tiny infant’s tantrum. He’d been mistaken, though. There was not one child but  _ two. _ Though the second had black hair and seemed all-too-human. A prince and a pauper, a real and a fake. Suriel dismissed the weakling. Demons ate the weak and rewarded the strong. 

Pudgy fists flung over its head in rage at the injustice of being left unattended. Another thought slipped through his mind, more devious even than his ploy earlier. 

Suriel plucked up the child, hanging them upside down by their ankle. The full-bodied wails of the poor child simmered into hiccuping whimpers at the contact, tail whipping back in forth. He disregarded the flames searing through layers of tissue and muscle, holding the demonling up to eye level. His burns would heal quickly, anyway.

A heart-wrenchingly long moment passed before the flames finally receded into the emberlet’s delicate skin, leaving his own flesh a charred ruin. This form was not as resistant to heat. Pity. And his sweater finally just fell apart from all of the day’s abuse, leaving him in a tattered long sleeve undershirt. 

The infant glowed a slight blue hue even while calm, radiating a smoky heat scent. The smell was delicious and his mouth  _ watered, _ wanting to bury his nose into the milky sourness of  _ Gehenna _ that radiated from the little squish and  _ feast. _

He shook the child until the screwed-up features had curled to bare toothless gums in joy.  _ Oh, thank Gehenna. Losing his hearing to the piteous wailing of an emberlet was not worth the entertainment this new idea would bring. _

_ Now, what did he do with it? _

_ …..Shit.  _

Suriel considered the giggly lump comfortably hung upside down in his grasp. It was…  _ His. _ Yes, it was his now.

“So  _ you _ are the one who’s been calling me, little prince?” he cooed. “Interesting… I think I’ll keep you. I’ll call you emberlet, for now.” Said emberlet looked up at him with slitted pupils.

_ What fun!  _ Now, what exactly would Samael do without his  _ prize player? _ Without the  _ very thing _ , he had undoubtedly promised Father. Cruel delight sizzled down Suriel’s spine, and the temperature in the room dropped a degree or three as his systems cannibalized the ambient heat. 

His tongue flitted across sharp silver teeth. Maybe after this, he’d get a snack. It would be nice to have such a high-level Nephilim to play with. They were rare, after all. 

How fascinating- the emberlet had reached out its tiny clawed hands and was grasping for him, babbling happily. 

Struck in an odd mood, Suriel complied, pulling the infant close and tucking it to his chest. With the emberlet in hand, he turned to leave the premises, ignoring the thin wails of the human spawn behind him. He had the prince, what need of he for the unfortunate spare? 

He’d made it all of two meters on his chosen path when a hard, solid object clacked against the back of his head. A human heartbeat behind him. Suriel sighed.  _ Could nothing be simple? He just wanted to take the Emberlet. Why couldn’t he get what he wanted? _ He pouted, for the lack of a better term, and huffed a breath.

“Now now- you just reek of my  _ dear brother, _ don’t you?” He chided after a quick sniff.

He lifted a hand, mocking his attacker with a scrupulous investigation of his cuticles. The cold barrel pressed more insistently to his skull. There was an audible  _ snict _ of the safety disengaging. 

Suriel waited for Samael’s lost pet to inhale, mouth opening to speak before he continued, smoothly interrupting. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. My bones are quite dense. You’ll hurt yourself before you ever manage to hurt me.” He mused aloud, voice smooth as silk. “Or worse, hurt my new Emberlet.” Suriel made a quick calculation.  _ Would he.. ? No, the timeline wouldn’t allow it _ . Pivoting on his heels, he turned to face his captor and angled his shoulders to place the emberlet in direct line of fire. 

The human had whitish-grey hair, with eyes the color of cherries half-hidden behind circular glasses.  _ Odd _ colorations for a human. Odder still was the dark shirt and white collar. A man of the cloth, with a gun. 

Just as he thought, the human had an aversion to killing youths- Especially this one and the gun followed his head, sharply veering from his emberlet.

Shock and anger settled on the human’s face. “The hell you think yer doing,  _ Four Eyes?” _ the voice barked past the cigarette pinched in the corner of his lips. 

Suriel’s lips pressed in a thin line, rolling both pairs of his eyes. Ugh, he hated puns like that. 

“Rude.” He scoffed. 

“So’s stealin' my damn kids.” He rounded on Suriel with a sneer.

“ _ Your _ children? _ ”  _ he mused with a grin far too wide and toothy to be pleasant. Samael’s pet paled, and Suriel delighted in his little slip-up. So this was the guardian his brother had assigned to the prince and the little pauper... What fun!

“Dearie me, didn’t Samael ever teach you to share? You’ve already got a squish. I stole this one, so it’s  _ mine. _ ” The tiny emberlet’s tail wrapped around his wrist with surprising strength for its diminutive size.  _ Oh it was just too  _ cute _ for its own good, wasn’t it?  _ “Honestly, don’t be so  _ greedy. _ ” He huffed, leaning down to drag a languid inhale of the emberlet’s  _ MaleYoungDemonPrinceGehennaHome _ scent.

“Squi- What the hell are you talking about!?” Samael’s pet’s voice grated on Suriel’s nerves. He fought the urge to render it to a fleshy mush on the ground, and raised his hand in a crisp  _ snap. _

  
  
  


He landed easily on top of a grassy knoll a ways away from the commotion, carried through space in a fraction of a second.

_ Ah.. Blessed silence. Finally. _ The cool breeze kissed his cheeks, slackened in relief as they were. The emberlet gave a tiny gurgle of complaint, and he sighed. The silence was only bound to last so long, given his stowaway. 

Now, to wait. Samael wouldn’t be far behind once his pet whined at his door. Then, he’d show his errant brother who was  _ really _ in control here. Who would win- who would get to ignore  _ who  _ this time _. _ Acidic hatred burrowed in his breast. 

Centuries- No,  _ Millenia _ of this game, and finally he’d be the player and not the pawn. 

_ Oh, how the tables had  _ _ turned _ _.  _

~= || || =~

* * *

~= || || =~   
  


Cherry-red eyes widened as Suriel, King of Time and Space and Third in Gehenna disappeared with young Rin Okumera, leaving nothing but the crisp scent of ozone in his wake. 

_Fuck._ _FuckfuckfuckFUCK!_ Shirou paced a quick, anxious circle where the demon king was just a moment ago, and cursed. 

“Dammit all ta hell!” He snarled to the open air, reaching for a small flip phone concealed in his black cassock. A small dog in a pink bowtie dangled from a keychain looped into the corner. 

Shirou pressed the damnable contraption to his ear, and waited. 

_ Ring… Ring.. Ri- _ “ _ Hello?~”  _ The familiar voice pulled a scowl from him, but he barreled right into the core of the issue, given the circumstance. 

“We’ve got a problem.” He uttered gravely, pulling a  _ looooong _ drag of his cigarette before anything else. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muahahahaaaa~ 
> 
> I love Shiro so much but god he's sort of fun to torture a little bit.. poor guy ;;
> 
> Anyways, love you all!!!


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